


Calling Plans

by Motchi



Series: First Dates [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Crack Pairing, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Family Drama, Romance, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 08:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20904581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Motchi/pseuds/Motchi
Summary: A trip to the phone shop leads to new lines of communication in more ways than one. Vincent/Tifa oneshot.





	Calling Plans

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to little miho's Phone Shop Challenge in the ffnet VincentXTifa forum back in 2006. Prompt: "I need you for this."
> 
> It does belong in the universe of my other stories and is set before **First Dates**, but it can stand alone. It takes place a few weeks after Advent Children.

"Remind me, again, why I need this."

He could be so frustrating sometimes, like Denzel before a doctor or dentist appointment, always needing to be convinced that something might be good for him. Tifa highly doubted he would appreciate being compared to a child—dignified man that Vincent Valentine was—but there was no denying the similarity.

"Well," she said patiently, "having a cell phone means you can be reached wherever you are, not just in whatever hotel you're at."

"And what if I don't wish to be reached wherever I am?"

Yup. Denzel and Vincent. _Two of a kind. _"Then there's the option of letting it go to voicemail or not answering...or just turning the damn thing off."

Usually Tifa dealt with this stubbornness of his with teasing or tempting, but today was not one of those days. She hadn't slept well at all—she'd gotten into a fight with Cloud last night and this morning he'd left in a huff.

And what had it been about? Vincent. So it was _his_ fault she was tired and in a bad mood. And since it was _his_ idea to get a damn phone in the first place, Tifa didn't feel like indulging his little fit of perverseness.

"I really think you're long overdue for one. I mean, you've been out of the coffin for a few years now, right?" she continued, irritation bringing out a petty side. "And it's not like there'd be a lot of people wanting to call you anyway."

She'd muttered that last part, but the look he graced her with told her that he'd heard. A supercilious eyebrow raised, in that special Vincent way of his, and she sensed the retaliation before she ever heard it.

"No, you're quite right," he said, nodding. He tapped his chin in exaggerated thought. "I can only think of _one_ person who would ever call me—although, with the frequency and quantity of the calls, you'd think it was more like ten."

Tifa's nostrils flared. How dare he make it sound like she called him three or more times a day! He was lucky she was even his friend, that anti-social bastard.

She smacked her palms on the counter. "Oh! Well! If this _one_ person is such a bother, then you know what you can do, don't you? You can _not_ answer the phone when this _one_ person calls! Or better yet, you can stop leaving your room number with this _one_ person every time you check in somewhere!"

As soon as the words left her, Tifa wished she could take them back, snatch them out of the air before they reached his ears. When he opened his mouth, she tensed, waiting for his counter to her jab.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Denzel come down the stairs. She immediately forced herself into a nonchalant slouch against the counter and started picking at her nails. Vincent adopted a similar stance—forearms resting casually on the edge of the bar, long fingers folded into each other.

Denzel's eyes flicked back and forth between the two. "Where's Cloud?"

Tifa, speech prepared (again) about why adults sometimes fight, was caught off guard by his question. "Cloud? Sweetie, he's not back yet. Why do you ask?"

Denzel wandered over to Tifa and stood next to her, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. "I need to tell him something."

A wild thought popped into her mind that Denzel was going to tattle on her. "If it's urgent you can call him, but you should probably wait until he gets back, in case he's driving. It won't be much longer, I'm sure." Tifa made a mental note to be in the room when he told Cloud this "something." "Are you ready to go with us to get Vincent's phone?"

"Yeah, I guess." His face fell. "I just need to find my shoes."

"I'm sure they're in your room...somewhere." Tifa brushed his bangs aside and ran a thumb fondly down his cheek. "When Marlene gets back with her dad, maybe you two need to thoroughly muck it out. It's been a while, you know."

Denzel grimaced. "I'm sure they're under the bed. I'll be right back." He disappeared back up the stairs.

In the silence left after Denzel's hasty exit, Tifa could feel Vincent's eyes on her. Finally, he murmured, "You know why I leave my number with you. If ever Cloud was away and something were to happen..." He trailed off, staring at his thumbs.

_Then you'd try your damnedest to be here_. And he would too—she knew that as surely as she knew her name wasn't Lucrecia. Oh, how he had a way of breaking her heart.

She closed the distance separating them and wrapped her arms around him from behind. His hair was pulled into a messy tail today, and under her cheek she could feel the warm, broad muscles of his back ripple as he twisted around to draw her to his chest. When she rested her forehead against the jutting of his throat, her heart broke for a second time.

"I'm so sorry I said that, Vincent," she said to his collar. "I didn't mean any of it, I swear. And I do know why you leave your number. I know, and... I need you for this."

He didn't reply, but continued to hold her in a loose embrace.

Tifa inhaled jerkily and the smell of his skin took her dangerously close from _needing_ him to _wanting_ him. She inhaled again and closed her eyes, swirling the scent in her nose and letting it imprint itself into her memory. If only she could bottle it. She'd label it _Vincent: 3 Hours After a Shower_ and put it on the small shelf above her bed.

"Tifa."

The feel of his deep voice under her lips startled her. Her eyes flew open. With an embarrassed start, she realized she'd been nuzzling him; her nose was buried behind his jaw and working its way toward his ear.

She stilled.

He swallowed.

A few seconds ticked by, filled with the sound of their shallow breathing.

It took all of her willpower to push off from his chest and seek refuge a few feet of distance away. He stayed where he was at, arms folded in his usual Vincent stance, but the smoldering look in his eyes confirmed that she'd made the right decision.

Tifa cleared her throat. "Anyway, you need me."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, and a blush whipped up her neck. "You need me," she clarified, "for the phone shop."

"I need you for a trip to the phone shop," he echoed in a voice so flat it made her laugh.

"Hey," she said airily. "You haven't been in one yet. Plenty of dangers untold. They'd just love to get their hands on an unsuspecting innocent like you."

He stared at her, making it clear he didn't consider himself to be unsuspecting or innocent.

The sound of feet running down the stairs made them turn. Denzel appeared and gave Tifa a sheepish smile.

"They were in the closet."

Tifa shrugged. "When Marlene gets home..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know...we have to clean our room." He ducked his head when she ruffled his hair and ran to the door. "Maybe Cloud will be home when we get back."

_Maybe he would. _Maybe she'd have flowers or a declaration of love or an apology waiting for her, and it would block out the little patch of stubble Tifa knew Vincent's razor had forgotten. "Then I guess we should probably hurry, huh?" she said.

Denzel swung the door open, and Vincent caught it and held it open for her. As Tifa passed by, she caught the faintest trace of _Vincent: 3 Hours After a Shower_ and it made her knees go a little weak.

She was blushing all the way to the store.

* * *

Vincent was beginning to get the idea that Denzel didn't want him around anymore.

It wasn't a good sign when, as soon as she had locked the front door, Denzel immediately inserted himself between Vincent and Tifa and latched onto her hand.

It wasn't a good sign when every sentence Denzel uttered seemed to start with "I bet Cloud can—"

And it definitely wasn't a good sign when Denzel kept pointing at pretty women and asking Vincent if he wanted to date them.

By the time they reached the store, Vincent was convinced that Cloud could beat Sephiroth with both arms tied behind his back, had the coolest ride and the coolest weapon on the whole planet, and could also fix sink clogs.

Denzel clearly had a bad case of hero worship, which was fine. But Denzel was also being overtly rude to him, which was not fine.

Vincent wasn't sure Tifa had noticed the antagonism; she had spent the whole trip ambling next to Denzel with a distracted grin on her face. But he was fairly sure she hadn't been listening to anything coming out of the boy's mouth—otherwise she surely would've reacted when Denzel told her, "You should marry Cloud before someone else does, Tifa."

That was the last straw. While opening the door to the phone shop, Vincent vowed to have a talk with his newest adversary before they returned home.

Once inside, the smile Tifa turned on him was only slightly mischievous. "Well, Vincent, we're here. See anything you like yet?"

They were in a wide aisle that extended down the length of the store, formed by two very long rows of glass cases with nothing but little phones inside. Red phones, black phones, pink, cyan, orange, puce... Whether he looked left or right, there they were—a garish rainbow of mobile communication technology. Behind the counters stood the people who would "love to get their hands on him," grinning like the predators Tifa had painted them to be.

_Oh, gods. _Did he see anything he liked? Barely a minute in and he already felt the absence of his gun. He moved reflexively nearer to Tifa.

"Come on, Vincy—er, Vincent," she said. She reached for his hand, but stopped when she remembered Denzel. "Uh, why don't you start by picking out a color first."

"Black."

Denzel peered up at him through his bangs. "Cloud has black."

Vincent peered back at him. He didn't particularly care for the half-smirk on the boy's face.

"Why don't you go browse through the black phones over there"—she pointed to the right, adjusting the purse strap at her shoulder—"while I step over here"—she waved a hand to a spot at the opposite counter. "I need to get my minutes increased, especially now that you're getting a phone."

At her belated wink, a tightness he didn't realize he had came loose. Their argument earlier had unsettled him, and he was exceedingly thankful they didn't fight often. It always squeezed at something inside when they did, a reminder that nothing in life was guaranteed.

"Come, Denzel," he said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you show me what Cloud would suggest if he was here, as I'm sure he would pick out the _coolest_ one."

The boy was smart enough to sense it wasn't so much a question as a command, and it was Vincent's turn to smirk as a noticeably subdued Denzel walked with him to the spot Tifa had indicated. They stared at the phones for a minute, while Vincent tried to work out the best approach for telling a ten-year-old to cease and desist.

Denzel curled his fingers over the edge of the case and sighed. "Are you going to move in with us?"

"What?"

"I heard Tifa and Cloud talking about it last night. They were yelling at each other. Cloud said you were over so much that you should just move in." He cocked his head and fixed Vincent with a serious look. "So are you? Are you moving in with us?"

Vincent gave the grinning salesman headed toward them a warning stare. "I have no plans to at the moment. No."

"But you could still decide to later," Denzel pointed out, unconvinced.

"I already said I have no plans to. Why don't you tell me what's really on your mind."

Denzel appeared to consider this for a couple of minutes. After a while, he admitted, "I don't want you and Tifa to be together. I want her to be with Cloud."

"I see."

"You do?"

"I do."

"So will you stop being with her?" He looked hopeful.

Vincent sighed. "I don't think you understand, Denzel. I'm not _with_ her. We're not together."

"Yes, you are!" he protested. "You're together all the time! And she's always calling _you_ for things, not Cloud. Can't you just not answer the phone? Or just not come over when she wants you to?"

_Could he? _Could he "just not answer the phone" when he knew it was Tifa on the other end? Could he "just not come over" whenever she implored, threatened or charmed?

"No, I can't," he answered.

"Why can't you?"

Vincent laughed to himself. If only it were that easy to resist Tifa—like choosing to wear white socks instead of black, or to not use an umbrella when it was raining. But her wide smiles and the tenacious way she wouldn't let go of a question had a way of making life difficult.

"Denzel, let me ask you a question: does Marlene ever get you to do things for her?"

"I guess so."

"Even things that you don't always want to do?" _Like getting a haircut, eating the last pancake, staying until she falls asleep..._

He colored in embarrassment and looked away. "Sometimes," he mumbled.

"Do you have fun with her?" _Does she make you laugh? Smile? Feel alive?_

"Yeah, usually."

"Do you like her?" _Is she the first thing you want to see in the morning? The last person you want to talk to at night?_

"I guess so."

"Do you love her?" _Wait_— He hadn't meant to ask that.

Denzel's head jerked back to Vincent, eyes wide. "No way! I mean, not like a girlfriend or anything. She's just a kid!"

He smiled at that. "Then why do you let her talk you into things?"

Denzel's shoulders made a quick trip up and down. "I don't know, 'cause she's a girl and 'cause she's my friend, I guess." A thought struck him. "Is that why you do things for Tifa?"

"What do you think?" _What did _he _think?_

There was silence while Denzel digested this. "So Tifa's your friend like Marlene's my friend?"

"You could say that."

"But what about Cloud? I mean, is Tifa like Marlene to him too?"

"I'm sure they're very good friends. I can't tell you if he likes her more than that because I don't know and it's none of my business." _But if he does, he has a pretty shitty way of showing it._

"Maybe she could get him to like her more. Maybe if she wore make-up or dressed prettier."

Vincent sighed. "We can't make people love us, Denzel. They either do or they don't." He had a thirty year history of coming to terms with that wonderful fact. "But when they do, we can only hope it's because of who we are, not because of how we dress or how pretty we look."

The boy looked a little crestfallen and returned to staring at the phones. "But what if he decides to go away and leave Tifa and me and Marlene alone forever? Who will take care of us?"

The events of the recent past—Cloud's disappearing acts, the Geostigma, the Remnants—were still apparently fresh in his mind, and the thought of the future still an unfriendly thing. Vincent took pity on him, remembering what it was like to be small and afraid, and bent down to his level. "What does Tifa usually do when he's gone for a long time?"

"She usually calls you."

"And what do you think she'll do if Cloud decides to leave you forever?"

Denzel stared thoughtfully at him. "Would you move in with us then?"

The question caught Vincent off guard. Instinctively, he straightened and fell into his sanctuary of folded arms and bowed head.

The idea of living with them knocked around in his head. A bed of his own. A medicine cabinet. A mailing address. A favorite chair. A raidable refrigerator. A place to start a collection...

_A front row seat to watch Tifa fall in love with someone else._

"I don't know," he said softly, honestly.

"What don't you know? Haven't you found a phone yet?"

Vincent found himself confronted with Tifa's wide smile, and something prodded at his heart. "Ah, no. Not yet."

She released a tiny huff of amusement and Vincent felt the ghost of her breath against his neck. She moved to stand on the other side of Denzel to peruse the selection.

"There's a nice one," she pointed out. "What about that one?"

Vincent tore his eyes from her to look. "Too flashy."

"Well, what about that one?" She pointed to another phone.

"Too big."

Denzel pointed at one. "How 'bout this?"

"Too long."

"That one?"

"Eh, too small."

Tifa pointed to the Featured Phone poster on the wall. "What about that one? It says it's their most popular model: still and video camera, color display, backlit control pad, picture ID system, memory card slot, calendar, calculator, alarm clock and customizable ring tones. What do you think?"

"Too shiny."

Tifa opened her mouth, then quickly shut it. She studied him for a moment, then said, "Why don't I work out a calling plan for you while you keep browsing?" She moved to the other side of Vincent, to where a computer-like machine sat on the counter.

"Calling plan? I plan on being called by you. A lot."

"Haha. Funny, Vincent," she responded, eyes glued to the display screen. But her mouth had tipped up at the corners, he noted.

"Who would I want to call?"

Tifa tapped various buttons, still watching the screen. "I don't know. You tell me. Cloud? Barret? Cid? Reeve? Yuffie?"

"Possibly. Possibly not. Possibly. Possibly. Definitely not."

She continued with her button tapping. "Why 'definitely not' for Yuffie? You know, I think the poor girl might have a crush on you."

Vincent stared at her. "Do you even listen to yourself?"

"What? Why?"

"Because you answered your own question."

She laughed and elbowed him in the ribs. "Okay, okay, fine. Now, what do you think of this? Their most basic plan is three hundred minutes—"

"Three hundred per week?"

"No, no," she said, shaking her head, "per month."

"Per month?" Vincent snorted. "That would never work. Not with that _one_ person who calls me."

Tifa glowered at him. "Fine, we'll double the minutes."

"Still not enough, I think."

She rounded on him, exasperated. "Vincent, I do not call you that much."

"Yes, you do," put in Denzel.

She leaned forward to peer past Vincent at him. "I do?"

They both nodded.

"Fine. Fine!" Tifa tapped a few more times. "Two thousand minutes. That should be enough for one person. I'm printing this out now." Vincent heard a humming come from the machine. "Now, what were you guys talking about over here?"

_You. Cloud. Us. _"Nothing of importance."

"Then why haven't you picked out a phone yet?"

"I have. There." Vincent tapped on the glass. "That's the one I want. It appeals to me."

"That's the one Tifa has," Denzel said, looking first at Tifa, then at Vincent.

_Was it?_ "Is it?"

Tifa's blush confirmed that it was.

"Then it's settled." Vincent smiled. "Can we leave now?"

"Not yet." She flagged down the grinning salesman that Vincent had scared off earlier.

"Can I help you?" he asked her, his smile still in place.

"Yes, you can." She pointed to Vincent's choice under the glass. "That's the phone that goes with this," she said and handed him the printout.

The salesman took the sheet of paper from her and wrote the model number of the phone on it. He smiled at Tifa again. "All right, it'll just take a moment." He disappeared into a back room.

"So, really…" Tifa leaned an elbow on the counter and turned to Vincent and Denzel. "What were you two discussing?"

Vincent and Denzel swapped glances. "Nothing."

She scoffed. "I have a hard time believing that."

Vincent sighed. "If you must know, we were getting better acquainted with each other."

The grinning salesman returned with a bag. "Here's your phone, miss. It's already activated and ready to go, and the invoices will be sent to the address on your other account."

"Thank you," Tifa said, smiling and taking the bag from him. She handed it to Vincent. "Are we ready to go?"

"I don't know, are we?" Vincent didn't care for the way the salesman was still hovering.

Tifa motioned for Denzel to lead the way to the exit. "I think we are, unless there's something else you wanted to look at?"

"Ah, no," he said, placing a hand at her waist with a pointed look at the salesman. "I'm ready to go. Although, why are they billing your address?"

She laughed. "Oh, come on, Vincent. Where else would they send it? Like you have a mailing address."

He frowned. No, he didn't have a mailing address. He didn't have a favorite chair or a place to keep a coffee mug either. The thought of settling down somewhere wasn't as horrifying as it used to be.

"So, tell me... What new things did you learn about each other?"

Denzel stood waiting at the exit, with his back against the glass door, watching them. But this time, instead of thinly veiled hostility, there was a satisfied expression on his face. He pushed the door open as they got closer and held it for them.

Vincent smiled at him and motioned for Tifa to go through first. "I learned that Denzel and I share some similarities."

Tifa laughed and waited for him to join her on the sidewalk before taking his arm.

Then she said, "Oh, Vincent, I could've told you that."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> This author replies to comments unless on hiatus.


End file.
